I don't like cooking for myself. I don't get any sort of gratification from it. If I have friends/family over as guests, I will put all I can into making a superb and memorable meal....but for myself...a bowl of popcorn sometimes is it.
When I first moved out to my own basement suite I was excited to grocery shop for myself...get anything I wanted, eat whatever I wanted. That was over 10 years ago. I barely remember what sort of stuff I made for my meals when I wasn't at work. Did I make the proper 3 item meal at supper time? How long into my independence did I enjoy grocery shopping and cooking? I honestly don't remember.
I lived in 5 basement suites while in the lower mainland and I really don't remember what my thoughts were on grocery shopping and cooking while on my own. For part of a year I had a female roommate. Did we cook together? Did I cook for her or vise versa? Why can't I remember?
So now that I'm in my 11th year of being out of the house (even though I've moved back home and live with my mom mainly), why haven't I've found a new enjoyment of the opportunity of cooking for more than myself? Here's my short theory of why: I have been living in such an unmotivated lifestyle that my 'motivated' lifestyle hasn't been awaken yet. How's that for a theory? Actually I had a different word than 'unmotivated' that I wanted to use in my description but I couldn't figure out what I really wanted to say. So what I did come out with is a bit of a BS version.
I think it would nice to try Weight Watchers again but alas, I'm just not gung-ho about making that effort right now. I have more than one reason to make that change but probably more than two reasons to not do it. Make sense?
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